


The Way to a Prince's Heart

by akgerhardt



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dragons, Fearplay, Giant/Tiny, M/M, Medieval Fantasy- Knights and Magic, Oral, Soft/Safe/Clean Vore (initially unwilling), Stomach Kink, micro/macro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-11-14 14:52:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18054620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akgerhardt/pseuds/akgerhardt
Summary: Somehow, he’s found himself in the middle of all of this, as if he was the catalyst. The memories return like occasional shadows that haunt his dreams.From what he's gathered, whatever happened was relatively recent.





	1. Chapter 1

Somehow, he’s found himself in the middle of all of this, as if he was the catalyst. The memories return like occasional shadows that haunt his dreams. From what he's gathered, whatever happened was relatively recent. It troubles him to the point that he solicits advice from a charitable seer.

“I swear, if I've ever a way to repay you-”

                  “It’s nothing. The locals don't trust those who tangle with the occult, so I have plenty of freetime.”

He fidgets, glancing around the ornate den. Lots of scrolls, herbs, woven threads, and gemstones lay amongst the rich decorations, framing the velvet pillow pile upon which he’s been seated. She lights an aromatic candle, then draws the curtains shut before joining him. The ambience is warm and inviting, and he can’t help but relax.

                   “Tea?”

He declines politely, feeling guilty enough for getting free advice. She adds crushed lavender to a satin pouch, then lets it steep, stirring daintily with a bamboo straw.

                   “Shall we begin? Why don't you start by telling me about yourself?”

“Er, well… That’s sort of the problem- I can't recall a blessed thing for some reason! I figured seers could sense those matters so I might have a chance of you doing the remembering for me...”

                   “Ah, I _see_. You thought I was a mind-reader?”

He nods awkwardly.

                   “That is unfortunate, as I don’t actually have clairvoyance. I do have writings, though... What would you say your symptoms are?”

“I… I don't think I have any.”

She unravels a scroll and goes through a lengthy checklist, then another, until he finally interrupts.

“You know, it's alright! Perhaps I just took a walloping to my noggin and it’ll come back with time.”

                    “It won't hurt to finish the last nine scrolls.”

He's pondering a suitable excuse when a dude sticks his head through the curtains.

           “Shit, sorry, figured you were alone like usual.”

                     “What is it?”

           “She read your palms yet? Show you her crystal ball?”

“No, but that sounds neato!”

                      “I don’t-”

She relents at his excited expression, pretending to examine his hands. The newcomer waltzes in to join them, flopping down on a pillow and helping himself to a cinnamon stick.

            “The name's Sir Dave of Guy.”

“Hot diggity, a real knight?! I bow to thee, my liege.”

            “Heh, don’t kiss my ass, man. I'm just a regular bastard with a sword.”

                         “This is fascinating! You were predestined to follow my brother through far-off lands on an epic quest.”

“Whoah!!!”

             “Aw, c’mon… Actually, I do need a new page. That’s why I've been snooping ‘round town.”

“... What happened to the last one?”

             “Took my horse and ran.”

                          “He could have at least ridden it.”

The boy giggle-snorts into his elbow.

             “So, yeah, we leave tomorrow. You down?”

He nods, glad to have a purpose instead of continuing to wander aimlessly.

                        “I bid you a safe journey.”

“Thank you, Lady Lalonde!”

                       “Should you find riches, I will accept my share.”

Dave stuffs a bunch of spices into his bag, then does a cryptic handshake with the seer before departing.

They arrive at a stable, and his partner stops long enough to acknowledge them. He announces that he’s Sir Vantas, the deadliest sickle-wielder he’ll ever lay eyes on. Dave just laughs, clapping his shoulder. He goes back to packing and hauling supplies around grumpily as Dave teaches him basic page duties, and then they get ready to hit the literal hay.

“Sir Dave?”

            “Yo.”

“Do you perchance have a set itinerary in mind? A summary of the threats we are to face?”

            “Honestly? We're just lookin’ for my bro. You know, the Prince of Guy. He left a couple months ago and never returned- no one's seen head or tail of him. Lil' Seb came back yesterday, so we figured he could use a ride.”

He gestures to one of the many horses resting next to them.

“Oh… My condolences.”

             “Eh, he’s probably fine... It’s kind of his thing to do dumb shit. This time, he was hellbent on finding a dragon to slay. Kind of an asshole move, if you ask me- they don't bother anyone aside from occasional theft. But, hey, he wears the poofy pants, so he calls the shots.

              … Sorry, TMI. Uh, you gotta name?”

He shakes his head, preoccupied with pulling apart a piece of hay.

             “Ok, imma call you Dave Junior.”

                    “No, you’re not. For fuck’s sake.”

             “What, you got a better suggestion?”

                     “Do I look like I care?”

             “Yeah.”

                     “Fine. Kid, why don't you look through the stupid feast day calendar and just pick whatever stands out?”

He nods eagerly, catching the scroll that's passed to him. They proceed to judge his decisions by lamplight. Saints Laura, Bernard, Terrence, and Sullivan are rejected. He’s getting somewhat downtrodden, so they ease up a bit and go with the first sensible one: Jacob. He’s delighted and falls asleep with a faint smile still on his face.

            “We'd be the worst dads,” Dave grins, ruffling Vantas’s hair. He flips him off affectionately, burying all but his face under the hay for warmth. Dave joins him with a saddle blanket, and he doesn't object. The oil soon burns out, so they stargaze for a while, ignoring Jacob’s unconscious mumbling. The straw is scratchy and the stable smells like horseshit, but they’re out cold in minutes thanks to exhaustion.

They wake before dawn and abduct a farmhand to be Vantas’s page. He’s nervous as hell, but Jacob manages to put them at ease as they ride, chatting away about all of the potentially safe adventures they might have.

                      “I think… that maybe you're right! My life- was not very exciting until this moment… Will we, uh, get armor, too?”

              “Gotta earn it,” Dave smirks. Tavros looks about ready to piss himself at the first sign of danger.

                       “Uh, no offense, but... that sounds like the fastest way to die.”

                              “You'll be fitted for armor in town,” Vantas huffs. “Just less flashy.”

                “You jealous ‘cause I'm hot shit?”

                              “Oh, _definitely._  I'd much rather have a suit not designed for stealth and quick maneuvering.”

                “... That’s fair, but you sweat more than your horse. The least you could do is sprinkle some herbs on your pits.”

                              “So I can reek of leaves _and_ body odor? No thanks.”

Jacob watches the sunrise dreamily while they squabble like an old married couple, and then they're shopping in the town square. He’s equipped with bronze armor, a white cloak, and a puny slingshot. He starts to reconsider the whole shebang, but it's not like he has his own money or anything else for that matter. Hopefully, he won't have to fight.

They travel long and far through foreign kingdoms and uncivilized lands, some more pleasant than others but all exciting for him. Their hygiene is no worse than the average person at home, but, then again, it's pretty terrible- humanity only invented plumbing, soap, and filtration systems several decades prior. They bathe in every body of non-stagnant water they encounter, and Jacob takes a liking to peppermint extract and leaves. More often than not, they sleep out in the open, taking turns watching for robbers.

Finally, they arrive at the prince’s supposed destination. It’s a enchanted forest filled with magical creatures, and Jacob dismounts from Dave's horse to explore as soon as they arrive. Everything is objectively beautiful, sacred in its undisturbed state. Vantas hands him a cowbell and tells him to ring it if he sees anything. He wanders off cheerfully, appreciating the pretty flowers and cool critters. He manages to befriend a flock of fairy bulls, with whom he gets lost in a meadow for hours. He’s unconcerned until they suddenly scatter. While he's trying to figure out why, a large shadow looms over him. Slowly, he turns around, looking up.

“... Oh, curdled cheese and cracker crumbs,” he squeaks. The dragon’s amber eyes glow ominously, and it crouches like a cat ready to pounce. He begins to back away, and then it roars, billowing humid air over him. He flees, shaking the bell frantically and screaming a creative potpourri of panicked exclamations inbetween “DRAGON! RUN!!!”

It catches him quickly, aided by its size and wings. He struggles, pinned under its claws, and it’s ready to devour him when the others arrive. He warns them to save themselves, but they charge for it. It swoops away, carrying him off to its cave. He attempts to use his slingshot, then remembers that he neglected to pack pebbles. He baps the nearest golden scales, and it snaps in half, plummeting to the ravine of jagged rocks below. Cheap piece of junk; he should've gone with one of those shitty swords.

“So, this is how it ends, huh? Some brave hero I am…”

He's glad for once that he doesn't have anything to reminisce about or anyone who will miss him. The dragon seems confident that he can't escape, considering the cave is a shelf on a steep cliff-face that can only be accessed via flight. It’s dragging it out painfully slow, playing with him like the aforementioned cat as it pries off his armor. It sniffs and nudges him, blocking his every move. He still struggles as it licks at his pinned form, then picks him up between its sharp teeth and begins to roll him around with its tongue. Jacob is past reservations.

“Just get it over with, you sadistic monster!!!” he gasps as soon as he gets a chance. It pauses its ministrations as if understanding his words, and Jacob is hopeful for a moment.

“Or, you know, you could spit me out instead and I'll be on my merry way!”

It closes its jaws, engulfing him in darkness and swishing him around. It’s steaming like a hot spring, and he's soaking wet. He shuts his eyes as he's pushed to the back of its mouth and swallowed whole, sliding down its snug, slick furnace of a throat. There are all sorts of sounds, seemingly coming from every direction. It’s loud and overwhelming, to the point that he curls up in a trembling ball once he reaches the glowing amber cave, sniveling in silence.

“This is where the prince must’ve met his end...”

     “At least _try_ to fight back. Make it interesting.”

He jumps at the voice, which reverberates around him without a source.

     “Yeah, like that.”

...

The dragon is using telepathy, _and_ it has a vore kink. What luck.

He remains perfectly still to spite it.

     “Lame.”

It shifts, knocking him onto his side. The ground is unstable but soft, and he's surprised that’s he's still conscious.

     “Don’t you want to have some fun~?”

He realizes that it can't hear him, so he focuses to thinkspeak back, sounding nowhere near as threatening as he wants to.

“Please hurry up and kill me...”

     “Nah, dragons don't need subsistence. You’re safe.”

The muscles squeeze him like some bizarre attempt at reassurance, and he yelps, slipping in the process. At least there's no gross muck to fall into- the organ is empty, as if the only liquid is condensated water. The air is breathable, and the temperature is tolerable, degrees less than above... Maybe it's true.

“... Let me out, then, you sicko!”  

It chuckles, moving him around in a wavelike rhythm. His fear is fading to annoyance.

     “Can’t.”

“Why not?”

    “Feels too good.

…

     I'm also info-gathering. In case you haven't noticed, it requires physical contact.”

“And how did you find THAT out?”

     “Pure instinct,” it purrs, practically rubbing him. Jacob is getting hot and bothered in more ways than one. He stoops to smalltalk in search of a distraction.

“So, I'm your first fodder?”

     “Mhmm~”

“Are there other dragons?”

     “Dunno.”

“What’s your name?”

     “Dunno.”

“How long have you lived here?”

     “Don’t know, don't care. C’mon, wiggle already...”

He grimaces, obliging its request. It moans in a weirdly sexy manner. The pieces are coming together, but he'd prefer if they didn't at this point.

“... Are we the first humans that set foot in your forest?”

     “Yeah… Hey, I didn't say you could stop.”

“Maybe I don’t want to fulfill a stranger’s fetish. Have you considered that?”

     “Once in a lifetime experience.”

…

“You are _insufferable_.”

      “I'm right, though.”

He agrees begrudgingly, whipping his dick out. Now that everything’s relaxed and nonthreatening, he’s come to see the appeal. He thrusts into a groove in its textured, gel-like stussy until they peak, proceeding to collapse. Still, there are words that need to be said. He forces himself back to coherency as the walls massage him.

“I've a strong hunch that you're the lost prince.”

     “No idea what you're talking about,” it murmurs contently, stretching.

“Of course you don’t… Gah, why must this be so frustrating? I seem to have lost my memory around the same time as you, but listen: your brother is searching for you with the rest of my party! He organized the whole shebang and braved hell and high water just to make sure that you're alright, so it's a good thing you didn’t gobble _him_ up.”

     “Mm, you're the only morsel I wanted, and you’re so tasty that I could eat you over and over... He sounds like a cool dude, though.”

“He most certainly is, and I'd best explain this to him posthaste!”

     “Nah.”

“Oh, for chrissake-”

     “Later, maybe... M’tired.”  

He sighs, almost despising how comfortable his hearth of a holding cell is. Sleep claims them both, and an unknown amount of time passes before the prince awakens. The first thing he notices is that the cave is a lot bigger than he remembered. The second is that there's a lithe, mossy dragon the size of a rat asleep on his abdomen. His memories slowly return, like sensation to a limb that had gone numb. Oh, fuck. He’s never going to live this down, so he might as well stay put for the rest of his days.

It was a quick spell, sloppily cast. Why wouldn't he leave the scaley alone? How could he _want_ to harm something harmless? He blames his humanity- he was deadset on slaying a dragon to prove himself, so he had to make do with the only one he could find. Despite its puniness, it was a fast flier and capable of protecting its domain. The line he stole from one of Rose’s scrolls was a last ditch effort to best it via teleportation, as he never fully grasped eldritch. Some tentacle god of old probably took one look at his order and shrugged, “Ok, species swap and memory wipe with a side of vore chamber, coming right up.” Damn, but if it wasn't fun being a huge bastard... He feels like absolute shit now, guilt welling up inside him and threatening to overflow. What he did was downright evil. Unforgivable. He's beyond lucky that he didn't succeed in his quest to kill.

He figures this will be his last chance to interact with the sentient green bean, so he scoops him up carefully and cradles him to his chest, resting his chin atop the soft, feathery leaves. He is undoubtedly the worst king-in-waiting, and Dave should- God, he must have traumatized Dave, too. Fuck, fuck, dammit-

The tears are falling freely now. He doesn’t deserve to come back, but there's apparently a rescue party searching for him, lead by none other than his selfless bro. And the flying noodle, what the fuck.

Dirk’s uneven breaths, tremors, and racing pulse inevitably rouse him. He blinks his glowing green eyes as he gets his bearings, then looks up at his towering figure to find that he’s mere inches away from his mouth. He squeaks and struggles to get free, but Dirk lets go this time.

     “I'm so fucking sorry,” he chokes out, ashamed and disgusted at himself. When it's clear that he's just going to sit there and feel bad, the dragon cautiously flits over, landing on his head.

“You, sir, are an _asshole_.”

     “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“You're going to actively work on bettering yourself, and that’s that.”

…

      “I can’t-”

“I think I've got enough strength, but don’t go flailing about.”

      “What?”

He scurries to the back of his shirt, digging his claws in. They're encompassed by sparkly green swirls, and before Dirk can process it, he’s hoisted up, carried all of the way down to the ground below. He flutters his iridescent emerald wings furiously like a hummingbird, lowering him to safety before collapsing on his shoulder. Dirk manages to catch him before he can slide off. After affirming that he’s just spent, he holds him in his arms to rest as he walks. He’s cold and frail, the polar opposite of Dirk’s dragon form. He has no facial features aside from eyes and fernlike ear fins- he seems to be a mini beacon of nature magic, like some sort of guardian spirit. Regardless, he appreciates Dirk’s body heat and gentle strokes, dozing weakly.

It takes hours, but he locates the party. He gingerly slips the dude into his cloak hood before approaching, and then he's tacklehugged by the knights. Everyone’s crying, even Tavros, who didn't know him and was just getting emotional watching the reunion. They interrupt Dirk’s profuse apologies to ask what happened.

       “It’s a long story that I’d prefer not to tell, but I was saved from myself.”

They, of course, inquire about the golden dragon and Jacob. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, but then miniscule claws are latching onto his hand. He struggles to pull himself up, not unlike a newly emerged butterfly. Ok, he’s not _that_ small, but it's equally painless. Dirk freezes in fear of knocking him off, letting him scale his hair until he's back on top. He'd be irked in any other circumstances, but it was messy from the start.

His tail sways as if in greeting, and they flip out over his adorableness factor. Dirk is relieved for the distraction he provides and manages to compose an explanation that excludes the nasty. They take turns extending their fingertip for him to grasp in order to communicate. Afterwards, they each touch part of his tail for a group conversation. He offers to accompany them through the forest for protection- only Dirk has seen a glimpse of his power, so the others try their best to be respectful and refrain from cooing.

Once they reach the border, he dictates final directions before dismounting. He hovers in front of Dirk’s face for a moment, then gives his cheek a light whap and zips away. Dirk presses his hand to the spot, wishing he had something permanent to remember him by.

It’s not necessary, though. He comes home, begins facing his demons one by one, and slowly improves. He'll never be perfect, but he'll be damned if he doesn't keep working on himself. 

The experience broadened his perspective, both literally and metaphorically. They become the first kingdom to ban poaching and trafficking, and creatures that were thought to be extinct or at least endangered grace their land again. The harvests thrive as balance is restored, and he ends animal sports. The public is displeased, but he’s already accustomed to assassination attempts. Roxy believes his change of heart was due to an old-fashioned monsterfucking.

About a year later, he’s chilling at the stable with his pony pals when a familiar green glow catches his eye. He’s in shock until the dragon pokes his head over the side of the wall, not wanting to startle his equine companions. He smiles like an idiot, dashing across the hay to reunite.

He visits more regularly after that and occasionally uses a spell Rose procured to reclaim his human form. If Dirk memorizes the dragon one, it's probably for a good reason, not something dumb like sky racing or more vore sessions.


	2. Chapter 2

Playing human is... strange. He supposes it was easier when he was oblivious. Speak words, make expressions, walk on hind legs, wear clothes... Come to think of it, he's not sure  _how_ he knew to do those things. He’s grateful that he didn't run around on all fours with his bits out making primitive noises. 

Dirk never questioned his dragon-ness; he just basked in it, swooping around and being the badass, majestic king of the forest with sun-glistened scales. Capturing a cute, spice-covered snack and then feeling him squirm all the way down, having complete and utter control over the situation... Ok, he still regrets every bit of that, but it doesn't turn him on any less. It’s a weird moral dilemma.

Jacob (or Jake, as he's been affectionately dubbed), was able to recover and avoid the damage of trauma. If he’s being honest, it wasn't the scariest moment of his existence- far from it, actually. He's fought off many humans over the years, and his diminutive size, nonthreatening nature, and leafy appearance entice predators and plant-eaters alike. It’s not fair, especially considering that he’s keeping them alive and safe. The role of guardian is a thankless one. 

As such, he's become inclined to use Rose's sister's cloaking spell to cast a barrier around the terrain and render it nonexistent to passersby. It allows him to abandon his responsibilities every now and then in favor of visiting the prince and his companions. He enjoys activities such as communing with Tavros's domestic critters, reading Vantas’s shitty romantic comedies, watching plays, mastering the slingshot, and sparring with Sir Dave with wooden swords, though he's absolutely rotten at it. It’s still fun, but he prefers to tussle with Dirk in a more intimate, empty-handed manner.

They've talked at length about what happened in an awkward attempt to clear the air, and they continue to mention it occasionally. The more time passes, the easier it gets to crack jokes and look back on it with fondness. It was one hell of a bonding experience, and neither can say that they wouldn't do the latter half again. Surprisingly, Jake is the first to cave.

They’re snuggled up in the royal bedchamber, Jake resting his head atop Dirk’s abdomen as Dirk scribbles with ink on parchment. He’s editing a fairytale for maximum ironic humor as a gift to their mutual friend, the head maid of the castle. It’s getting hard to focus with the way Jake’s lightly caressing his skin, one hand slipped under his tunic as he listens to his meal churn away. Dirk told himself that he was just fascinated with humanity, but it has yet to fade and he's his only specimen, so to speak. It borders on fetish, and they both know it. He can't complain, though- the gentle touches, kisses, and unbridled affection make him fucking weak. He’s fallen pretty damn hard for this scrawny lizardman.

Jake traces the outline of his abs with a fingertip, going almost painfully slow until he reaches his happy trail, petting it with his thumb. Dirk grips his pen in an attempt to maintain composure, words jumbling together in his head. Play it cool, pretend to keep writing, draw a horse or some shit. He’s blanking; he can't even focus enough to do that. This chapter will be lackluster if he doesn't stop. 

      "Can't blame you for being enthralled; I'm an HPOA," he manages, stroking his back. He just hums, nuzzling closer, and Dirk's stomach rumbles in response. _Fuck_.

"... God, what I'd give to be inside of you once more," he murmurs, hesitant and barely audible. Dirk tenses, heating up. This isn’t real; he’s dreamt of it too many times.

...

      "Come again?"

"I'd like to... Wouldn't you?"


	3. Chapter 3

      "... Fuck, Jake, of course I do. I want it so badly; I was just afraid to ask because I figured you-"

Jake pokes his head through the space between the scroll and his chest, catching him off-guard with a smooch. It effectively shuts him up, quelling his nerves. He tosses the pen and scroll onto his bedside table, pulling Jake flush against him as he kisses back passionately. Jake maps out the mouth that he's practically memorized by now, appreciating the lingering taste of his mint tooth scrub. Dirk makes a needy, undignified whine when he slips a hand into his poofy trousers to palm at his crotch through his briefs, the combination of which never failed to visibly hide his boners. Prince perks, he guesses. Jake isn't an idiot, though; he’s begun to realize how much his lovey-dovey displays affect him, and he's rather proud to be the only person who can make him come undone. They most likely would've ended up taking this route regardless of the preluding conversation. Otherwise, Dirk wouldn’t've continued to lay there, suffering in silence with a raging heart-on (an affection erection, if you will). No, he's not selfless enough to wait them out.

It’s an unspoken game they play, and Jake is currently winning. He’s his weakness, after all. He springs his dick free and wastes no time tending to it, pumping him with the same sweetness as before as he continues exploring his body with his free hand and littering his jaw to torso with pecks and soft nibbles between murmured praises. It's killing Dirk, but in the best way. Still, he wants to level the field. Jake is only half-hard, and he won't stand for that... Fuck, but he couldn't stand if he tried. He’s at the mercy of his gentle touches, rendered powerless. 

      "J- Ja-"

"Shh, it's alright. I've got you." 

He doesn’t last much longer, shuddering a cry against his lips as he peaks. Jake works out every last spasm, then dries his hand on the inside of the pants. Dirk’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, heart racing. Jake lays his head back down with smug satisfaction, listening dreamily. After several minutes, Dirk is able to exact his revenge.

      "God, I'm starving."

Jake blinks up at him, confused. He just had dinner.

      "Too bad I don't have the right transformation spells memorized word for word, because my horny ass definitely wasn't dreaming of a chance to use them. Oh, wait-" 

Jake’s eyes widen as he becomes increasingly flustered. 

     "For the sake of privacy and convenience, I'd like to postpone my dragoning tonight. Do you want a dick, lizardman?"

"... Where in the realms did you learn to do  _that_? Gracious-"

     "Yay or neigh?"

He fidgets for a moment, then nods, avoiding his gaze. Dirk promptly recites three incantations, and then boom, Jake's back in his original form with one small difference. 

"It’s... weird."

      "Good weird?"

"Undoubtedly."

He smirks, scooping him up and then dangling him over his open mouth, giving him a glimpse of the glowing amber tunnel that replaced his throat. 

"Holy moley, how?!"

      "Like what you see~?" he thinkspeaks back. 

"... Yes. But how-"

      "Had some freetime to learn eldritch and read every single goddamn spell in the kingdom's libraries. As it turns out, you can compose your own once you grasp the fundamentals."

Jake chortles meekly, and Dirk hesitates before turning him over in his palms, taking a tentative lick. He tastes like mint, which isn't much of a surprise considering his fixation with it. Jake wriggles as his soft, tan lips engulf his dick, and then he's giving him the world's tiniest blowjob. When Jake seems to have adjusted to the sensations, he amplifies them by straight-up slurping his lower half into his mouth. He’s slender but long enough for his tail to slip far down his throat, and Dirk struggles to control his reflexes. Fuck, it almost feels good... 

He thrashes in pleasure as Dirk hums and sucks him off, pulling him in and out like a piece of candy as his textured tastebuds work his dick. Dirk is pure heaven: soft, warm, slick, and pulsating... When he comes down from his climax, Dirk releases his hold and swallows twice, just kinda letting him slide in. He remains still in tired awe to avoid being a choking hazard, and then he curls up in his empty hearth, snuggling the walls gratefully. Dirk may have miscalculated his size, but at least he’s not uncomfortable. He rubs at him contently, and he rubs back with the tip of his tail until they fall asleep. 

Dirk is rudely awoken by an attendant for skipping the gala, and he groans, getting to his feet to wash up. He pauses to look at his reflection and appreciate the slight bump in his stomach, deciding not to rouse him. There’s a faint glow, but his formalwear hides it. If anyone questions his declinations of food, he’ll just... say he ate leafy greens beforehand. Hopefully, Jake won't wiggle around much.


	4. Chapter 4

Dirk found that there were many benefits to having a readily-accessible dragon form. He could fly, ward off threats, lift or crush large items, set fires, put out fires, dig up springs, fulfill his kink fantasies, avoid the need for food and water, offer protection, and… heal, among other things. He discovered most of his quirks by accident- the ability to inhale and exhale flames took some getting used to. The truly bizarre aspect of it all was how safe Jake now feels. He put his trust in him both literally and metaphorically, and Dirk can't comprehend why but the least he can do is not let him down.

They like to adventure alone together, opting to be scalies for the majority of the time to avoid the need for supplies. Jake likes to sleep in Dirk regardless of their forms, and Dirk accuses him of only bringing him along as a tent and transporter. He not-so-secretly enjoys it, though.

Thanks to the magic of magic, they remain clothed as humans and Dirk can rest easy knowing that if either of them accidentally shifted mid-vore his spell would ensure that they'd just poof apart. He put a painstaking amount of effort into affirming the accuracy of _that_ translation, even enlisting Rose’s help in experimenting with the transubstantiation of fruit. He claimed curiosity as his motivation from the start, but, luckily enough, she fancied trivial ironic pursuits. It was a favorite pastime that they shared, pouring their hearts and souls into ridiculous endeavors in the name of art and science. They did surgery on a grape, for crying out loud. The melon-turned-berry separated from it upon reversion, and Dirk wiped his brow, clutching his stomach subconsciously in relief. No longer would disturbing imagery haunt him.

With that knowledge in mind, he proceeded to go nut. Dragon-dragon, human-dragon, dragon-human, dragon-cool treasures too bulky to carry, human-human dick, human-telekinesis, human-micro dragon dick… God, he loves his leafy cryptid’s Bernard. Normal human sex is just as intimately satisfying and pleasurable, and he's found himself ready to take a knee. His lack of a spouse was the only thing preventing him from taking the throne- it’s a stupid rule, really, and he plans to abolish it. Jake wouldn't be able to stay with him in the kingdom fulltime, and he knows that he wouldn't want to, anyway. Maybe they could fake it until coronation? He thinks Jake would be down for that, but he’s scared shitless of asking. They've been together for years now, but he’s reluctant to make assumptions or even discuss how their relationship ties in with human dynamics. They've been to many a ceremony for their friends and acquaintances, the latter of which were primarily bullshit. Dirk acknowledges the tendency for marriages to dissolve or become toxic and dysfunctional, and he doesn't want to tie Jake to him, but he still muses over the prospect in fonder moments, particularly during cuddle sessions. A lovey-dovey domestic life, moving into the dilapidated royal cottage in the woods to restore it and revive its greenhouse, curling up in a blanket pile by the hearth in the winter, maybe shacking up in the hollow tree in Jake’s forest half the time… He doesn’t care about the details; he just wants to live with him. He lowkey hates when they have to part ways and spend weeks to months with no communication. His anxiety dwells over his wellbeing, despite knowing that he can handle himself, and he's a lonely motherfucker. Maybe those stupid plays they watch are turning him into a sap, but he’d get matching matrimonial tattoos in a heartbeat if-

“Er, I think you started broadcasting your private thoughts again. Apologies for interrupting that caravan; I just didn't want to hear things that I wasn't supposed to, you know?”

His muscles tense around Jake, glow intensifying from embarrassment. He strokes them in response, trying not to laugh telepathically. Dirk gradually relaxes again, sighing.

     “... Sorry. Uh, how much did you hear?”

“Not to worry! Something about tattoos, I think… Do you perchance know where a fella can get a good ink job?”

     “I’ve dabbled in experimental designs.”

“So I’ve seen! I'll, ah, consider that… I was hoping for something traditional, though- no offense intended.”

     “Some taken.”

“Look, I don’t want an intentionally-botched, unnerving caricature face. That’s your brand, isn't it?”

…

     “Fair enough. What _do_ you want?”

“... You know those fancy designs with symbols and whatnot? The kind that Sirs Dave and Vantas got with Jade, or the bands that Lady Lalonde and her dame have?”

    “Yeah; they’re typically reserved for partners in lifelong commitments. You could probably find a similar-”

“I’ve been contemplating all of the malarkey we’ve engaged in together, and- I've wanted to tell you that I cherish every single flippin’ moment. Even without the fiddle-faddling, there's no one quite like you in this entropic world, and I can’t imagine a better life not shared with your majesty. You may have been in a bad way when we met, but you’re a real gem and a stand-up gent. I hope you know that. You’ve begun the first era of harmony between humans and the natural world, for chrissake! Your compassion warms my cold, nonexistent heart in the same manner in which you’re currently warming my body, heheh…”

Dirk swallows, hard. There’s no way this is going where he thinks it is. Jake can't help but smile to himself at the way his pulse quickens and his temperature increases. He’s downright adorable when he’s flustered, and he can just picture the look on his face right now. After a minute or so, he taps lightly on the wall. He startles, and it squeezes his whole self in response.

“Heh, sorry, you alright?”

     “I should be asking you that.”

...

“We don't have to discuss the matter any further if you don’t want to. I fear I was too forward-”

    “No, I- I do want to. Just wasn’t expecting you to feel the same… or spring a proposal in my goddamn stomach without either of us actually talking.”

“That’s quite understandable,” he chortles. He rubs at him again, working him up into a tizzy until he's moaning softly, voice reverberating around him as he presses back. He squirms uncontrollably, failing to stifle needy whines between chest heaves.

     “Fuck...”

“Shh, it's alright. We can sort things out later.”

     “Yes. A thousannn… thousand times, yes. I- really hope we're on the same... page here, because... Mmn, c’mon, lemme finish-”

“I intend to~”

He just speeds up his ministrations deviously, unraveling him from the inside. He loves making him come undone.

When he regains coherency post-climax, he pokes him teasingly.

“What? I let you finish, heheh.”

     “I want you to be my king. Only if you want to- no strings attached, and no obligations included. I just-”

“Boy shitting howdy, wouldn't _that_ spiffy predicament razz my berries!”

...

    “That a good thing, or... ?”

“I can think of no greater honor.

... This is the part where I would smooch your handsome mug if I was physically able to.”


	5. Chapter 5

(A masterpiece by Daeigira_Blood on DeviantArt!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Doodles)

****

When Dirk has to attend to royal bs, Jake pretends to be his pet or what-have-you. He keeps Dirk entertained by spewing malarkey in telepathic conversations and talking shit with him about the other people there, etc. All of Dirk’s kingly garb feature embroidered crowns (because he doesn't want to mess up his hair wearing a real one).

Dirk’s secret scaley self makes it easy to keep the peace.

In hindsight, they realized that they should've come up with a backstory before the engagement ceremony.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (But wait, there's vore)


End file.
